Faithful Edmund
by Eosneve
Summary: His loyalty is going to destroy him, but he has no choice. He is the Just King and the High King's brother, after all. Golden Age. (reposted, betaed by Eryniel Alasse)
1. Chapter 1

Inspired a bit by "Faithful John", a fairy tale by the Grimm brothers, and a bit by the legend of Damon and Pythias. This is a second version of the story, with some change. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Note: there may be some characters' death but, as I said, this is inspired by a fairy tale, so don't worry. This is not slash, mind well, just brotherly love.

This wouldn't be possible without the amazing **Eryniel Alasse** , whose editing job improves my writing a lot. She also inspires me and helps me with my grammar. So a huge thanks to her for giving me her precious time! You guys should go and read her stories, since she is not only an amazing editor, but also a great author!

Disclaimer for the whole story: I own nothing. Narnia belongs to C S Lewis and I'm very grateful to him for creating such a wonderful universe.

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King Edmund was far quieter than usual – that much was obvious to anyone who looked closely. The folk of the castle were worried about him, certainly, and more than a little curious as to his shift in temperament. However, they knew their king enough to say that no matter the underlying problem, it would not affect the welfare of the kingdom. They didn't know how the Just King solved all the problems that cropped up on a near daily basis, but along with his siblings, he managed to do handle all. And even if King Edmund was absent minded right now, his sisters could easily handle whatever problems might come their way. Perhaps his concerns were about the High King, who was off at war but it was a relatively straightforward and one sided campaign, without any Narnian mortalities yet.

It was the fifth year of the Rule of the Four, and the sons and the daughters of the prophecy proved themselves to be a true bliss to Narnia after the years of winter, especially for the bond they shared with each other. The most evident, untouchable, and unwavering bond was the one between the kings. It was a vital one indeed, one that manifested itself in particular in times of war. The loyalty and love that the two brothers had for each other was a balm for the people's hearts. How fortunate Narnia was to have them! They had brought summer, victory, peace, justice and prosperity.

Edmund's thoughts were far grimmer than those of the Narnians, though. He was waiting a report from his spies, but this delay was distressing. Peter was – or was going to be – in trouble; he was certain. This campaign was too easy, almost reminiscent of a diversion. Why was his intelligence so silent? What had happened?

Edmund sighed softly. There was no point in worrying so much – it be a better use of his time to do something productive. He should better go and train with his twin blades and perhaps find other daggers and knives to hide on his person; there could never be enough on hand.

As he was turning to leave his chambers, a travel-worn and weary Sparrow appeared in his open window, feathers ruffled but eyes alert. "Your Highness, I managed to overhear an alarming conversation. We need you in disguise, for King Peter is in great danger" the bird said, scarcely pausing for breath.

"I wouldn't have been offended by a denial of my suspicions," the young king complained aloud, bringing his hands to hide his face. His shoulders trembled a bit, but when he faced his flying subject once again – who was watching at him with his head reclined, a curious look in his bright little eyes – the king seemed calm and emotionless. Peter might need something from him, so he couldn't allow himself to grow anxious, not when at last he would have known more. The knowledge would have been painful, but every news would have been welcomed. The last thing the fifteen-year-old could bear was being uninformed about his beloved ones' fate. He had been withdrawn so far, because he feared he would have overreacted at anyone, due to his concern. The Sparrow respectfully urged him, "Every second is vital, your Highness. We'll talk on the road."

Edmund sighed wearily, but complied with the Sparrow's request. It wasn't the first time that he had been asked to go on a covert mission.

He rang a bell and asked the Faun who appeared to immediately summon his royal sisters, requesting that they hurry and enter his chamber without being announced. Then he casually leaned against the fireplace and pushed an andiron. A secret vanity appeared, one in which he kept an additional supply of clothes. Edmund picked from it some poor clothes to wear and some more smart clothes to bring with him, since he didn't know which plan he would have better follow.

He put his cloak on and turned his back to the door to look at himself in the mirror. In that very same moment, he heard a cry and a steel clang: "What are you doing here, intruder? Turn slowly and keep your hands in sight!"

He smiled recognising Susan's voice and for once, he did what he was told and turned to face his sisters, each of whom had a dagger in their right hands, Susan's one being smaller than Lucy's since the Gentle Queen kept her knives in her hair, while the Valiant Queen was used to keep hers in her breast.

Upon seeing his face, the sisters flushed slightly and lowered their weapons, returning them to their hiding places in their hair and clothes. Edmund smiled at them, urging them to both have a seat while he mulled over how to break this monumental piece of news to them. Finally, he sighed and called in the Sparrow, deciding that the bird could repeat what he had told him.

While the Sparrow was briefly explaining why the High King could have needed his brother's support and trying to not alarm the Daughters of Eve at the same time, Edmund went to his study, sighing internally at the mountain of paperwork upon his desk. He quickly – _and rather sloppily_ , he thought resignedly – signed the most important documents and prepared some letters to delay some meetings and visits. Coming back to his room, he found two worried and tense sisters. His heart beat faster at the sight.

"Please be careful, Edmund. We like having two brothers," said Lucy. She looked at him in distress, but he could tell that her gaze was far away on the Beruna battlefield.

"And that means you're not allowed to put yourself in danger," added Susan sternly, but a tear in her eye gave her away.

"In any useless danger, that is," the three of them finished together, identically wry smiles on their faces. They knew each of them would have chosen their siblings over themselves.

The Queens and the King lead towards the stables through a secret passage, hidden by a tapestry, where a winged horse was carrying a girl and a boy holding an apple. They decided the girls would have covered up Edmund's absence with an excuse, then they walked silently and gravely, with Aslan in their minds and hearts: He would lead and support them.

In the stables, Edmund hugged the girls wordlessly and then saddled up a mute horse and rode away. The Sparrow sat on his left shoulder, whispering in his ear.

"The new Narnia's allies and their Lord, the ones saved by His Majesty during this campaign, mean to do great harm to Narnia. An evil warlock is helping them. We are helpless."

"But why me?" Edmund asked, feeling rather confused by this entire turn of events.

"Forgive me, my King, but a son of Adam was required. We'll protect you but we can't let this happen."

"Nor can I. So what is the matter?"

"First of all, the war was fake – they have never been in danger. It was a way to draw Narnia's sovereigns' attention. We cannot warn the High King because he is heavily – even if discreetly – kept under watch. We tried several times but failed." The Sparrow studied the Just King's reactions, but he could only see a deep, focused frown on his face, so he kept explaining.

"And another King of Narnia would warn them that we know King Peter would be in great danger. What can we do? We thought that maybe, Your Majesty, that you could infiltrate the enemy and befriend with the warlock or the Lord... They fear the Animals, but you are a son of Adam, so..."

"No," Edmund interrupted. "They wouldn't be so naïve. I agree with you, we have to do something. But we have to do it without arousing their suspicions and risking an open war. If a warlock is helping them, we'll easily be defeated."

Then he added to himself, _If I enter the castle, it certainly won't be as a noble guest_.

"We are nearly there," the Sparrow said, interrupting his meditations.

"Thank you, my good friend. Go now – it's better if no one sees us together."

With a nod, the Sparrow disappeared. Edmund dismounted and drove his steed away.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Edmund caught sight of the imposing castle in the distance. It looked more like a fortress than a welcoming house, if he was honest. The building had a pentagonal plan, each corner defended by a massive, windowless tower that was linked to its neighbors by crenellated walls. _The master would be like a prisoner in his own home_ , the king thought, already missing his bright and joyful home of Cair Paravel.

Edmund took a long, deep breath and then set his face in a nervous expression, like a young boy who was away from home for the first time. He had decided to find a job in the castle so that he hopefully would have been able to move undisturbed in the castle (no proud lord ever noticed a humble servant) and find Peter before it was too late.

A last check to his clothes (shabby and ragged), his hair (tousled and dusty) and his face (dirty and vapid) and he was assured that he looked perfectly nondescript.

 _Excellent, just the look of a poor commoner. Let's get this show on the road, then. We are in Aslan's mighty paws. May the Lion keep us safe!_ he thought.

Taking in his surroundings (Memorize the ground and use it to your advantage, Oreius had always said), Edmund cautiously approached the guards who were monitoring one of the back doors. They heard his purposefully clumsy footsteps and immediately aimed their swords and spears at him.

Edmund pretended to tremble in fright and, with a light stutter and a piercing, terrified voice, he explained that he had been just orphaned – now some tears, excellent – and had no relatives – no family meant no embarassing questions – and needed food, because he didn't want to die of starvation. "It's rumored – sniff – that... new guests in the castle... I mean, more guests, more chores, isn't it?" _Excellent once again_ , he thought, _because an uncoath country boy can't properly master language structure_.

The guards exchanged a look, then one of them nodded towards Edmund, saying: "Very well, I shall escort you in the kitchen. You'll talk to the butler and he'll decide what do with you." Edmund congratulated himself and thanked Aslan. So far, everything was going smoothly.

The butler was an old, respectable-looking man, with a kind, but melancholy look in his welcoming grey eyes. _Is it a trick? Be careful, Ed!_ A few moments of conversation later, though, he was forced to conclude that no one could pretend such a perfect air of grandfatherly concern. Thanks to the man's civil chatter, Edmund learned that the butler dearly loved children and particularly doted on his grandson, whom Edmund apparently shared some traits with. Following the man, Edmund kept a sharp eye on every corridor, door, staircase they passed. Technically speaking, they should have walked down service-corridors, but the butler considered it worthwhile to show the new boy a piece of the castle. After all, it was where he would live and serve from now on. In addition, the butler was able to show Edmund a portrayal of the castelan himself, Lord Calandratos.

The young king shivered as they stopped in front of an imposing picture depicting two beautifully dressed men. As always, he carefully studied the two figures' gazes first and found them unclear and devious. The golden frame, the jewels, the smile couldn't hide the darkness radiating from the man on the left, whose eyes were sending a sinister glow.

"This is our master," said the butler, pointing the man on the right. Edmund didn't miss the respect and yet the concern in his voice and focused on that figure. Truthfully, the Lord's eyes seemed veiled, much as ten-year-old Edmund's had been. He wondered what he would have found behind that veil. Then the butler escorted Edmund through a small red-baize door, along a narrow service-corridor, which led to a spiral staircase, and into a small room, where he assigned him his job. Amongst the other humble chores, he would be required to clean the gentlemen weapons; this would be relaxing and useful. He merely nodded and thanked the old man, who left.

Once alone in his room, Edmund sighed in relief and threw himself on the mattress: he needed to think and then find Peter. "I shall do this. I shall."

A week passed with Edmund going about his duties exactly as expected. The staff in the castle considered Edmund as one of them; he was thorough and efficient in completing the tasks. Being well-liked also allowed Edmund to wander and explore the castle without being questioned, so he now knew corridors, halls, staircases and even some secret passages rather well. Despite all of this, though, he couldn't still approach Peter directly, because of the close surveillance the Sparrow had warned him about. He dearly missed his best friend, longed for his brother and needed his High King, but it would have been a huge disaster if Peter had hugged a servant or called him by his true name. After all, King Edmund was quite famous beyond the vicinity of Cair Paravel because he had the responsibility of affairs of the foreign policy. Fortunately, his disguise was quite good and he tried hard not to be in the same chamber as Peter. The identification would have had to happen in a solitary place and in such a way that Peter understood that his brother needed to keep anonymity, but for the life of him, Edmund couldn't think of any likely situation that would fit.

Another week dragged by, and Edmund was growing impatient and uncomfortable. He couldn't keep himself away from Peter any longer, but at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to speak to his brother either. Moreover, Lord Calandratos and the Warlock (the one with the dark gaze in the picture) seemed to ask him to stay every time he was forced to approach them by his chores. The castelan enjoyed his magical guest's company, and looked unsure and pensive when he wasn't there.

The young King changed his mind and started to appreciate the Lord when he organized a fox hunting. It would be a perfect occasion to speak to Peter. Edmund smiled ironically in the darkness of his room.

The fox-hunting day arrived at last. In the evening, a pleased and hopeful Edmund went to the stables in order to collect the weapons to clean up... his brother would have had a beautiful surprise! He knew Peter very well and knew he would have remained alone in the stables, as he liked attending his horse while everyone else had already departed – the two had tarried there together to share confidences and state secrets. Nobody would have ever suspected someone of saying something important in a stable.

* * *

Peter was tired and felt empty without his brother's supporting presence. He sighed as he saw the dark boy in the shadows, thinking of Edmund. How he missed him! And he knew Edmund missed him, too, but it would have been rude – no, downright wrong – to abandon his host, who only wanted to show the Narnians his gratitude for their help in the last war. He sighed again. He was under the impression there was something rotten in this place, but couldn't be sure without Edmund's decisive judgement and firm support. He discarded his thoughts and called the boy, gently asking him to clean up his slingshot. He was about to call him by his brother's name, but something stopped him.

Edmund grinned and took Peter's sword instead. Peter repeated the question and Edmund took the sword but spoiled it a little (being careful, because he was handling Rhindon, after all) with a meaningful smirk.

Peter frowned, beginning to suspect something unusual. Then he said to prove his theory, "Raise your left arm." Edmund raised his right leg. Peter's eyes went wide as he said with fondness, "You'll never do what you're told, will you?" Edmund smiled and winked at him. Peter wordlessly folded him into an embrace, and Edmund returned it firmly, tucking his head into his brother's shoulder. They only stayed together for a brief moment for fear of discovery, but it was enough to calm the hearts of both men.

The younger boy sighed in relief – now it was all simpler. He and Peter had this special bond that allowed them to understand each other with just a look, a twitch of an eyebrow, a change in the posture or expression. Logical Susan said they shared a brain, but whimsical Lucy said they shared a soul.

There was just one problem: none had ever failed to notice this connection. They couldn't understand such a brotherly bonding, but were either envious or touched at this display. The two kings would have to be careful.

Of course, the kings also knew a more conventional code of signs that they had started to create and shared with Susan and Lucy, too, but it was useless in these circumstances. Edmund grimly thought that they really had to improve it. Who had thought that having a sign for _He's so cute_ or for _I'm hungry_ had been a good idea? They should have created one for _The owner of this castle and his sidekick are insane, so let's clear out of here_.

In any event, things being as they were, few words were enough to explain the situation as Peter's blue eyes ignited with righteous wrath.

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Thanks to all of you for reviewing, following and/or just reading :) And thanks to Wildhorses1492 for being such an inspirational author (and reviewer): I think she may find echoes of her writing, but I did it inadvertently. **Lucy X Caspian** , I loved reading your encouraging review and I hope you won't be disappointed!

A special thanks to my peerless beta, Eryniel Alasse, who saved me from some embarassement!


	3. Chapter 3

Peter, being his usual pugnacious, noble, impulsive self, wanted to charge the warlock and the lord of the castle immediately – perhaps even attack the whole castle with only few guards because General Oreius had led the bulk of the army back to Narnia. The fair-haired young man was a bright and overwhelming wild fire, Rhindon flashing in his hands. While fighting, he would have been every inch Aslan's warrior and High King. Because of this, many Narnians had started to call him the Magnificent, and Edmund wholeheartedly agreed – even if he sometimes teased his brother about it, especially when he wanted to hide how much Peter and their sisters actually meant to him. He preferred deeds over words, and a certain kind of conversation was too sentimental for him to be comfortable.

Once, he and Peter had been respectively compared to air and fire by a wise Archenlander alchemist. The fire could either create or purify the air, while the air could either feed or dampen down the fire. The alchemist had called it symbiosis, but Edmund called it a balance.

Right now, they needed a damping-down draft of air, badly. The younger King twitched his lips at his brother's fury. "What?" Peter asked, then realised, "Oh, did I do it again?"

"Yes. Honestly, Peter," Edmund mock-sighed, "you're incorrigible... but magnificence needs fire to maintain itself, so we can state you are necessarily incorrigible to avoid disappointing the Narnians. Aren't you, High King?"

Despite the moment, they smiled at Edmund's mock eloquence and slipped in a light humor. "Please, tell me, O strategist Edmund, what will be our next move?" Peter said, cawing in a poor imitation of the old, wise and brutally frank Raven who first had introduced them in the world of crafty diplomacy and high strategy.

"Your Majesty, reflect. You have a brain, use it!" Edmund replied, ruthlessly teasing both Peter and the poor absent Raven. "But seriously, my plan is simple and one-worded, actually: talking."

"Talking?" Peter was incredulous. "Ed, maybe you haven't noticed that..."

"Pete, concentrate and you'll see what I see. You must," Edmund interrupted.

"What I should see, this I do not see."

Edmund's meaningful look was followed by Peter's long "ooooooooh!"

"Oooooh indeed," Edmund repeated, teasing him once again. _Alright_ , he thought, _how could our connection be weaker than Peter's stubborness? Our brains usually blend effortlessly and... No no, I see a mischievous sparkle in his eyes: he understood but didn't want to make this easier for me. Bothersome big brother!_

* * *

 _You'll be proud of me and my communication skills, dearest little brother. Aslan, help me, please, and don't let Edmund do anything impulsive to save me. I know he will. He thinks I don't suspect, but I can read my brother, when he judges someone's character..._

* * *

 _Don't worry, I'll be your shadow and I'll protect you, dear big brother. I didn't want you to discover, but I don't trust the warlock. Have ever watched his eyes? You probably have. But behind them? You probably haven't. Behind his eyes, there is Jadis's soul. Oh, Aslan, we are yours, remember that – remember us._

* * *

Truly, they both knew that their brother knew, but it was simpler to pretend they didn't.

In the meanwhile, the warlock brewed maleficent potions, invented lethal spells, hatched harmful plots and evilly grinned. _Foolish golden king! He really thinks to return home safe, doesn't he? Well, we'll change his mind. It would be rude of him as a guest, neglecting me, his host, and my needs. Right now I need several things and I can't really decide their priority on my "to-do list." Of course, drawing him here was a piece of cake – those Narnians are too noble and predictable for their own sake. It was enough to say that some slave traders had planned to uprise against Calandratos's new laws abolishing the enslavement and he was here in a blink with his army without even knowing us. Fool! He walked into my trap without a second thought! And now I need to own Narnia and its richness! This shire is becoming boring, and as far as I've enjoyed being Calandratos's right hand man and advisor, I deserve a kingdom! So the next thing to do is probably getting rid of the High King. I'd love to see him dead if at all possible. If his title is true, no High King should mean anarchy, and Narnia will be mine. Or should I find a way to use him for my own purposes? Perhaps facing one of his siblings could be interesting, too..._

Lord Calandratos was open to the dialogue, Peter had already noticed that. If only that warlock would not be there. A valet accompanied Peter in the majestic picture gallery, where the Lord was standing very pensive and alone. Honestly, he seemed rather lost. Approaching his host, the Narnia's King noticed he was staring at a portrait depicting a gracious fair-haired woman: she wore an elegant Narnian tiara and in the background there was a hardly-visible golden lion, who seemed to watch over her, while walking by the shore of a bright lake.

"Hail, your Majesty. I was thinking of that Big Cat of yours..." the Lord began.

"Aslan?"

"Aslan... Right, he... does he... I mean, they say he's not tame, but good. How is that so?"

"When you'll know Him, you'll understand. I can't explain, but I can ensure your Lordship that's true." Peter smiled, thinking of the Highest King of all Kings.

"One of my ancestors married a Narnian princess. She taught him to trust in Him. But somehow everything went bad and there was none to hear me anymore... I felt so alone. Everyone I loved has abandoned me, except for my dear magician: he has magic, and he can't leave me. I find it so difficult to have faith, to trust."

"Lord Calandratos, you trust someone nevertheless, from what you say," the king gently replied, alluding to the warlock. "So you know how it works. And, somehow you believe in Aslan's nonexistence. Why not believing in His existence, then? Please, meditate on it. Aslan never abandons his children. You may think He does, but He's just arranging a new adventure and a greater joy; you'll always find another door before the previous one is truly shut. And when you'll feel alone and weak, He'll allow you to ride Him."

Suddenly, a great screeching filled his senses. Peter could only catch glimpses: dark hair, red fire, loud shouts and an excruciating pain in his left side. He instinctively searched for his brother and found him by his side. Edmund was the dark-haired person who had thrown himself in front of him, managing to deflect the flaming arrow that would have killed him otherwise. Edmund was now supporting him but somehow also managing to stand in front of him, protective and fierce and wild. A group of Talking Beasts was surrounding the two kings, too.

Everyone (Lord Calandratos included) was puzzled. The arrow had just appeared from nothing and looked alive: its target was Peter and only him. Edmund had touched it in order to deviate it but, apart from a light sting, he had received no injury.

The warlock's entrance explained it all.

The Beasts growled and snarled, and Edmund did it too. Peter would have been amused at his brother's sounds, but he was slowly slipping into darkness, trusting his brother to keep him and Narnia safe. He knew he should have been overworried, but Edmund was becoming less of a child and more of a King every day. Edmund knew and was going to do what his High King expected, no matter what, he promised to himself, baring his teeth in a dreadful, feral expression and aggressively growling once again like a wolf that was marking his territory. And somehow he was: Narnia was his land and Peter was his brother. None touched them and got away with that, so a wolf fit nicely.

All the Four Sovereigns liked spending time with their subjects, trying to understand them better, and identifying themselves with each one of the Narnian races, should the need arise. It was an interesting and helpful thing to do and Edmund had discovered that wearing someone else's skin was plenty of fun.

Cautiously staring at the villain who had treacherously hit his brother, Edmund gently ordered the Narnians to bring away and attend the High King, which they promptly did. Then he emitted a whistle. A Phoenix appeared and nodded to the Just King, who seemed relieved. Peter would be out of that castle soon.

The warlock was considering carefully the boy. "So it's true," he began, "that there are two kings in that country of yours. Why? You're too stupid and cowardly to stay alone, aren't you? And..."

Edmund quit listening, but he couldn't help but hear the last offense against Aslan Himself spat by that pathetic being in front of him and his blood boiled.

"...I'm sure of it. After all it's your pet, your kitten and..."

"Enough!" Edmund interrupted coldly. "You don't deserve anything from me and certainly you don't deserve this honor, but," he paused for dramatic effect and theatrically sighed, as if the next words truly hurt him, "but I shall provoke you to a single combat and then we'll see how you do."

The warlock paled. Apparently, he knew the legendary swordsmanship skills of both Narnian kings, an excellent psychological advantage. The warlock raised his chin – _how childlike_ , Edmund thought, snorting – he began to speak, words heavy with fake interest: "O Just one, please tell me: you did betray and want your family dead, didn't you? How is it? You're no better than me. Maybe I can help you to deal with that. Let's see: I can delete your past, for example. Would you like it? I know I could not live with myself if I were you."

Edmund knew what he was trying to do, but unfortunately for that disgusting creature, it would not have worked. He was beyond his betrayal and Aslan had justified him; he sometimes still felt that burden but not now. He had Aslan's peace.

The warlock casually continued, "I see. You're very hard to please, but I'll manage to do it. You are a king; you are powerful and rich, and you have a family... But there must be something worth enough to tempt you. I would be sorry to have to kill you."

Honestly, Edmund was amused; where did this big-headed thing come from? He continued to listen the warlock's random promises with fake courtesy in order to understand his enemy better. Now that Peter was well cared for, he could be levelheaded.

At last, voice dangerous and grave with authority, the rightfully Just King answered, "You're mistaken. You could not make me any offers that would tempt me to accept them. While watching the Witch heading towards Peter with her wand and sword during the Battle of Beruna, I've held in my hands the destiny of a lot of people, including my own. At that very moment, I chose. I chose once for all and forever. I pledged my loyalty to Narnia, her High King and Aslan. And my opinion of you was decided from the very beginning: your manners convinced me of your true nature. You have defied Aslan's mercy for too long. So a last warning: regret your deeds now or you won't have other chances."

Edmund knew Aslan was endlessly mercyful and forgiving, but He could be just and vengeful, too.

"Actually, I am sorry."

Edmund wasn't deceived.

"...sorry that you refused my offers. But if I were you, I'd think very carefully of it. My plan is simple and good. You and your little family will be safe and free to go everywhere you like. And don't worry: we'll keep up appearances. We'll fight and I'll win but spare your lives."

"Of course, a good plan indeed, except for a tiny, insignificant detail." Edmund answered pleasantly, then suddenly roared: " _ **Narnia**_ _is my family_! Aslan entrusted it to my siblings and we won't fail Him and our subjects!" Edmund's tone became perfectly calm once more, but that was perhaps more unnerving than his shouting. "I've already said that your offers couldn't tempt me in any way. Please, tell me what you don't understand in this sentence. I would think it's quite clear."

The warlock shuddered. "Very well. As always, this conversation is boring me to death, but..."

Edmund couldn't help but mock his enemy. "Really? If only I had known this before, you would be dead now. I can be very boring if I want. Pity!"

The warlock glared at him angrily. "As I said, talking is boring but I want to make myself clear: either you leave me Narnia or you die of atrocious pain. And then, with your brother injured, none will save your precious country."

"You really have no eye for the details, do you? Few words will be enough: Gentle and Valiant Queens and Aslan. Oh and do not be deceived by their titles: our Gentle one is the best Narnian archer, she could hit you with her closed eyes. The Valiant one could beat you in the blink of an eye with her dagger. Aslan needs no words, but you'd be decomposed by His very presence." Edmund was exaggerating once again: he and his siblings couldn't stop a magical person in any way. Certainly, Aslan could help them, but understanding His will was impossible. The Warlock had to accept the challenge so that Edmund could try to get rid of him in a (hopefully) fair fight: it was the only option at present and in order to do so the King should have got him mad enough.

The warlock growled, "Nothing will help you – I have something in store for you. You are as good as dead."

Edmund tried very hard not to show any feelings and succeeded, but couldn't help but think he would be in Aslan's Realm soon. He coldly replied, a dangerous hint entering his voice as he portrayed himself darker than he was, "Thank you for your concern. Let me return such a courtesy and remind you that I'm said to bring justice but also death. They sometimes add mercy, but not as long as you're involved, I fear." Here a knife appeared out of thin air in the dark-haired King's left hand, and his face savagely twisted in a feral expression as he absentmindedly twirled it.

The warlock brushed his robe and recapitulated: "Alright. Tomorrow, at dawn, in the courtyard: only our swords will talk. I think you're hoping your sword is mightier than your infamous silver tongue, but this won't help you. Your little family will be heartbroken."

Edmund smirked. The warlock would have never imagined his counterattack. "You won't be disappointed," he plainly retorted.

With that, the opponents parted in silence, the warlock tense in his anger and arrogance, the Just king steadfast in his honor and fairness.

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As always, **Eryniel Alasse** is a great editor and I'm very grateful to her for her help and advices!

 **A/N** : dear readers, I fear you'll have to wait at least a week for the next chapter, since I'm leaving for my grandparents' and they don't have any Internet connections. Sorry. Thank you for reading my story and please, let me know your thoughts about it.

I hope this chapter is believable and enjoyable, let me know your thoughts about it.

Merry Christmas to everybody :)


	4. Chapter 4

At last, here is chapter 4 :) My eternal gratitude to my beta **Eryniel Alasse** , who is a precious editor and teacher, and deserves a huge shout-out because she really works very hard, but never gets annoyed with me and my mistakes!

Thanks to everyone for reviewing (reviews are always appreciated), following or just reading this story! I hope you'll like this chapter!

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It was midnight, the dark hour where one carries out actions in which one does not wish to be disturbed. Normally, this is used for dark purposes, but on this occasion the darkcloaked figure's intentions were pure. This figure knelt in the wood behind the castle, seeking peace in which to pray.

"...welcome me in Your glorious Reign. This I pray in Your name. So be it."

At the end of his prayer, Edmund stood up from his kneeling position and headed toward a lush-weeping willow, gently caressing every trunk he passed. How he longed for his Western Wood!

He sighed softly, dreaming of the beloved woods of his homeland.

 _For Narnia, for my siblings and for Aslan,_ he reminded himself.

He had come in the wood led by two reasons: collecting his twin swords, which he had hidden amongst the willow's roots… and preparing to lay down his life.

Edmund was by no means a simpleton. The warlock had lied about Peter, he knew that much – he was quite sure his brother would be alright, thanks to blessed Lucy and her cordial. However, the young king suspected – or rather knew – that somehow there wouldn't have been such a hope for himself, for there were some very strong and negative forces that could contrast Lucy's juice of the fireflower. And so Edmund's purpose was singular and straightforward: to take his vicious enemy down with him before he could damage any other. It was all he could do and it had to be enough. "Let Samson die with the Philistines" was the fitting phrase that crossed his tongue. Edmund took it as Aslan's blessing to his plan, even if he couldn't understand it.

Suddenly, he pondered: _should I say enemy… or enemies, plural?_ Then he remembered the conversation between Peter and the Lord he had overheard. If only he had more time... There was hope that Calandratos could mend.

He crouched down and found his swords exactly as he left them. The hilts were special; only he could comfortably wield them, for they were shaped to his hand. Moreover, the swords were completely balanced: they were perfect for Edmund's body. _My siblings' gifts_ , he thought tenderly. Each of them had given a contribution: Peter had chosen the hightensile steel for the blades, Lucy had given instructions for the hilts and Susan had translated some ancient Narnian warriors' and kings' mottos. Amongst them, Edmund himself had chosen and made the swords be carved with these words: _Either virtue or death_ for the right sword, Araniq, and _In His light we_ _see truth_ for the left sword, Vezarcaim.

Right now, Araniq was a perfect reminder of his resolve, Vezarcaim a promise of eternal hope. The swords had saved him and his siblings countless times, both with the blades and the wisdom engraved upon them. Often, just a glance at them was enough to hearten him and make him feel the Lion's strength, just as it was now.

A wave of guilt washed upon him as he thought of his dear sisters who waited for their brothers – their two brothers – to return home to them. Edmund didn't want to think of their crushing sorrow when they ran to greet them, only to find but one wounded brother. And Peter… how could he put this weight on his beloved brother's shoulders: to bear the weighty news of his own passing? How could Edmund ever make amends for this? He hated the warlock even more now for tearing his family apart.

 _No, not hatred_ , he reminded himself. _Do not hate, for it leads only to suffering. Hope instead that_ _he will one day return to the light._

The young king climbed an old oak and started to attend his weapons to clear his mind. At last, the blades were sparkling, the edges sharp and strong, but his mind and heart were still misty by sorrow.

"You all know what I have to do, my beloved siblings. You would do the same, and you did do the same. I only hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me."

Lost in his thoughts and bewitched by his swords' glitter, Edmund didn't notice the approaching Phoenix. A soft cry from the bird warned him, and he glanced up as the crimson being landed on a branch next to his head. He immediately recognized the noble animal. "Greetings, Zlaabira." Edmund attempted a welcoming smile, but the best he could produce was the raising of one corner of his lips.

Zlaabira was the head of his spies, and a master of covert missions and secrecy. She wasn't a particularly talkative individual, but had a gift for knowing what to say, and when to say nothing at all. The Phoenix merely nodded in greeting, having a shrewd guess as to his thoughts.

"Why are you here?" the king asked curiously.

"I saw a glint and came to investigate, King Edmund... I suspected it might be you. I mean, we all know about the duel."

 _Of course_ , Edmund thought in amusement. _You're the head of Narnia's intelligence, and the_ _best in your profession to boot._

The Phoenix continued: "We are all worried about your safety, but clearly you're going to be all right. I also bring news about the High King: he's recovering. Your sisters are inquiring after you and your return. Oh, in truth I have to admit I hope... Well, I think you know why I am here."

Edmund laughed sadly. "Indeed I do, my friend. I should be glad of company tonight¹. Please stay."

Zlaabira made herself comfortable in his lap, and he softly stroked her feathers, his mind contemplating the day that lay before him.

At last, the king spoke, his voice grave and quiet: "You and your fellows shall return to the Cair in the morning. From now on, you shall respond at Queen Susan's orders. I often debate with my Gentle sister about some matters and she's our diplomat. She will know what to do."

The phoenix snapped her head up in disbelief, for she couldn't comprehend why was he dismissing them.

"My liege, this is impossible. Why?"

"Well, let's just say I must… leave."

"But you shall come back. Otherwise, we'll follow you wherever you are going. We swore fealty to you, my Lord. We swore an oath to always protect you, protect the Four."

"My good cousin, now this is impossible. Where I go, you can not follow² and I won't need protection. Please. It's time for you to depart. This is an order. Tell Peter, Susan and Lucy... that I love them. There's really nothing else to say."

"As you command, my king." Zlaabira took flight, but not before casting a last anguished look at the king sitting in the oak tree.

Zlaabira had no choice but to announce the Just King's will. Few were the times that she hated her oath to obey the royals, but this was one of them.

Duty bound them all.

* * *

The rising sun found a man and a boy in an ovalshaped courtyard. The place was surprisingly serene, and silent apart from the gurgling of a lovely fountain in the center of the courtyard. Despite their idyllic surroundings, the two figures were wellarmed and seemed ready to kill. You wouldn't easily find so different opponents.

The boy, whose eyes were solemn and calm, seemed born for this. Most of his armour was in hardened leather, but his torso was protected by a silver cuirass. On its left side above his heart, a roaring Lion was depicted. He wielded a sword in his left hand, handling and twirling it with great talent and a trident dagger in his right hand. He wore no helmet, revealing his dark, lucent hair. On his back there was another sheathed sword, presumably a spare to those who didn't know his fighting style.

His opponent was a middleaged man, one seemed competitive and lethal. He wore dark chainmail over his torso but absolutely nothing else in the way of protection, as if he wanted to show his great confidence in his skills. Certainly, he wasn't used to seeing his path being crossed. He wielded a sword and a shield engraved with a crocodile, and his head was protected by a helm that left his face exposed.

The two duelers stood facing one another, the warlock scowling, the king smiling slightly as if amused by his opponent's display.

It was the elder one that attacked first, swinging his long sword at the boy's chest. He was clearly choosing to waste no more time and trying to catch his opponent by surprise. His face revealed his annoyance in facing a child. The move failed – the boy easily parried with an upraised dagger, but made no other move. The man seemed nonplussed by the lack of reaction from his opponent. It was almost as if Edmund were swatting an irritating fly buzzing about his head and then paying it no more attention.

After a short while, the man made another attempt, this time sending his blade in an overhead strike that would cleave the boy's skull in two. This time, his enemy countered with an attack of his own which the other parried. The pair, to any onlookers, seemed too tired and unenthusiastic to do this, appearing as if they had far more important matters to attend to. Truthfully, though, they were just judging each other's strengths and weaknesses, getting a feel for the other's style. Each of them was waiting for a particular moment... They continued doing this for a while, trading blows, until the darkhaired one unexpectedly engaged the enemy in a fierce duel, attacking without pause. They were well matched, even if the boy was clearly disadvantaged due to his favored hand and lack of a shield – even if the trident dagger assisted him. Several times, the man tried to strike him not only with his sword, but with his shield. The boy had always managed to duck, but he couldn't keep on the defensive indefinitely.

Suddenly, the younger one bent over to avoid a particularly vicious blow by his opponent's shield, but in doing so could not see the sword driven into his thigh. The injury was superficial, but he fell nevertheless and rolled over to stand up again with a pained grimaced.

They circled, swords flickering out like serpents' tongues.

The elder one suddenly lunged, and once again they started exchanging blows with terrifying ferocity.

Each move from one was skillfully countered by the other. The blades glinted in the sun, throwing light in a thousand different directions as they twisted and spun about each other.

 _It's taking too long,_ each of them thought.

The warlock threw away the shield, drawing a black small sword in place of it. "Guess what? I have no need of a shield," the warlock taunted. As he spoke, a low hum filled the courtyard as an undulating green barrier appeared between them.

Edmund's lip twitched in derision. "Guess what? I'm not lefthanded and can wield two swords."

The boy swiftly unsheathed Araniq as the Warlock rushed at him yet again, the shield moving with his headlong charge.

Edmund had passed days and days in the library of Cair Paravel, studying every creature to walk the face of Narnia and its surrounding lands. He knew the theory behind breaking a magical shield as well as the time limit: he would have approximately seven seconds to attack once he dispelled it. However, he had never had cause to actually apply that knowledge.

Making full and masterful use of his silver swords, the king showed his true talent: it was clear he wasn't used to handling with a trident dagger, but he was certainly used to training and fighting with dual blades. Steel clashed against steel during the furious exchange. At last, the younger one could see a break. Twirling his twin swords in intricate figures, he managed to push the warlock against a wall. Engaging his opponent with only Vezarcaim, he sliced his own thumb against Araniq's blade and let some drops of his blood fall on the warlock's magical shield, evaporating it with a sharp crack.

 _Seven seconds – the countdown has just begun_ , Edmund thought with a grim resolve filling him.

Edmund pinned the warlock against the wall. The older man struggled and bucked against the king's hold, but was no match for the younger and fitter man in terms of brute strength. Edmund drove his right blade in the warlock's left shoulder, and the warlock dropped his small sword with a howl of agony. Edmund quickly picked it up, cut himself and the warlock with it, then threw it in the fountain. His blood had to be mixed with the shield creator's. Such a living water would purify everything.

 _Just in time_ , he breathed in relief as his mental count hit seven. The shield was definitely broken and couldn't be recreated. Edmund paid for his loss of focus, however: the warlock twisted free and dashed back out into the middle of the courtyard. Cursing himself under his breath, Edmund followed him. Briefly, the opponents faced each other once again, but now Edmund was obviously advantaged. Few blows were enough: he stabbed his adversary in his chest. He hoped he hadn't inflicted a mortal injury...

Suddenly, a thick black mist enveloped the young king and the cruel laugh of his enemy hurt his ears.

"You fool! You didn't realize I couldn't be killed by just a one lethal injury! Of course, you seriously hurt me and killed my magical core but I can recover and survive. I can't say the same for you, though, young prince." The warlock sounded labored but darkly pleased.

Edmund couldn't breathe without pain and felt his whole body burn and freeze as if he had a high fever. He dropped his swords and collapsed. Just before the blackness claimed him, he said deliriously, "I failed, Narnia is still in danger... Forgive me."

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(1) The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

(2) John 13:36


	5. Chapter 5

With my gratitude to **Eryniel Alasse** for her encouraging and honest feedback and amazing betareading: I'm really a lucky writer! * hugs Eryn *

Thanks to everybody for reviewing, following and/or favoriting this story: I really appreciate your support. Please, keep telling what you like/dislike, it really helps me.

And now, just a warning for you, dear readers: don't panic, while reading this, as you'll find mild (very mind) description of injuries, illness and death in the last part, but... Don't panic and trust in Aslan! Rosazul, I'm sorry for this chapter, but read it and don't worry: the next chapter will explain it all!

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Peter was riding at the head of a column of soldiers, most of whom had voluntarily joined the army. The Narnians adored their sovereigns, and when one of them was in trouble, they wouldn't have stopped for anything. Right now, King Edmund was in great danger; Zlaabira the Phoenix had come back to the Cair with the dreadful news a few hours ago. While marching, everyone couldn't help but think of the previous events and feel numb. It had all happened so fast that it had seemed surreal.

Lately, all sorts of things had happened in the royal castle: King Peter leaving for an odd war; King Edmund disappearing; Queens Susan and Lucy covering him up with an excuse they all pretended to believe for the Daughters of Eve's sake; King Peter coming back on a stretcher... Some evil forces were at work, and yet none dared question the three Sovereigns, not even their dearest and closest friends; their misery and helplessness were heartbreaking.

Three days had passed since the return of the High King, when Zlaabira and her comrades had shown up at the Cair Hall unannounced and insisted upon speaking to Queen Susan alone. The Gentle Queen, after hearing their report, had left the Hall in tears and summoned her siblings to her bedchambers, where they talked for just mere minutes.

High King Peter had quickly collected an army and many of Narnians had joined this expedition without being asked; they fiercely loved each one of the Four.

Queen Lucy had wanted to go with them, but few words by her brother had persuaded her she would be more helpful in the Cair should someone unexpectedly attack. And her cordial would not have worked on Edmund, according to Zlaabira, who grimly supposed it could even have a lethal effect. Magic used against magic was rarely effective. With a deep frown, the younger Daughter of Eve had touched the hilt of her dagger and stepped back next to a grave Queen Susan. Potential threatening intruders would have faced a stormy Valiant Queen and a burning Gentle Queen; the invaders wouldn't have survived to tell the disastrous tale.

And now here they were, swiftly traveling towards a foreign land where their Just King was being hurt for the love of his subjects. Each of them hoped to be in time to save him or someone would pay for this... _dearly_ , each Narnian grimly thought.

As for the leader of the procession, the Magnificent King was dreadful in his fury. His title could only be the Magnificent, really.

Upon their arrival, they found a silent castle. Nothing and no one was in sight. Death itself seemed to cloak the grim building.

They cautiously entered by way of the main gate. The lack of guards at the portcullis was unnerving, to say the least. After some wandering, an old, desolate butler met them and led them to a room. The High King went in along with two leopards, three greyhounds, an eagle and a gryphon. Lord Calandratos greeted them, kneeling in respect, shame and regret. Peter was on the verge of beheading the man without a second thought when he heard his brother's wise and calm voice: "Aslan tipped the scale that Lady Justice holds in favour of mercy, my High King." (1)

"Brother," he whispered.

Suddenly, the oldest Pevensie knew what to do and unwillingly sheathed Rhindon. Edmund was right.

"Calandratos, you shall explain yourself at once."

"Your Majesty had warned and I had not listened. I trusted the wrong person and now everything might be lost. Your royal brother helped me in finding the light. I cannot express how deeply ashamed and remorseful I am for my deeds. Please, I beg your Highness's pardon."

Peter worked his jaw for several moments, staring at the kneeling figure before him. He knew Edmund was right, that he should forgive… but it was so difficult to force his heart to follow his mind. Finally, he said, "Rise, Lord Calandratos. Our royal brother pardoned you and so do we. Fear not. Tell us, where is the Just King, our brother?"

"I have grave news for your Majesty. He wandered off and we can't find him anywhere. But allow me to tell the story in order. I warn you, it will be difficult to tell and to hear. It's my understanding that your noble brother dueled with the warlock for your, Narnia's, and Aslan's honour. To be honest, I cannot say whether there was a true victor."

Peter was growing impatient and rose an interrogative brow.

"I'm sorry. When Lord Edmund struck the killing blow, the warlock used a spell he had previously prepared for this purpose, and somehow your brother killed his magical core but not his body. Moreover, this spell poisons the killer. I and my people took care of him, but no doctor could do anything and your brother was getting worse and worse. Suddenly he disappeared – he said his disease was contagious because it was so similar to... He said something about another world... "Spare Oom," perhaps. I can't be sure because the poor boy could scarcely talk. He tried to hide it but he was in a indescribable amount of pain. He talked me about Aslan and a Stone Table and forgiveness..."

Calandratos allowed a tear to slip down his face while saying: "I fear King Edmund's life is about to end."

Hearing this unnerved the Beasts and Peter, who was frantic: the High King and the big brother were fighting within his heart... Going and dying alone to not hurt anyone was such an Edmund-like thing to do. Peter needed, longed to be there for him, but the Warlock was within his reach and maybe, just maybe he could have saved Ed with his magic.

"The warlock?" he managed to ask with a weak voice and tears in his eyes, hoping with all his strength this was the right choice.

"In the dungeon."

"May I see him?"

"Follow me."

The warlock was still bleeding from the injury he received from Edmund, but still refused to accept help or regret his deeds, even if he was about to die himself.

"There is no counterspell for the curse I placed upon that boy. I warned him. It was either Narnia or his life. Now, in the Just King's remembrance, you might want to show me some Narnia's famous mercy and attend my wounds. The Lord refused and..." he said.

Peter, sword unsheathed, started to approach him with a lethal expression. How dare he? A roar startled the fuming King. Before he could do anything, a Leopard leapt at the warlock and tore him to pieces before roaring once again: "Mercy has vanished; only revenge stands!" King Edmund and Queen Susan had once saved this Leopard's cubs, and now...

Suddenly the Leopard got a grip on himself and bowed in front of an astonished Peter. "I beg your pardon, Sire. My temper flared up, but it was not my place..."

"Peace, my good friend. You don't need it, but you most certainly have our pardon... as well as our eternal gratitude. I was frankly within an inch of doing that myself."

Everyone smiled in relief, but the expressions did not reach their eyes.

* * *

Peter was in the wood behind the castle. He knew Edmund would have come here – the forest was his shelter.

"Edmund! Ed! Can you hear me? Please, Ed, answer me!"

No one answered.

At last Peter spotted him. Whatever the warlock had done to his brother had to be worse than death. Edmund looked like a fire was consuming him; his body was covered in lesions. He laid with his back against the trunk of a large elm, weak and helpless. His usual intense and vibrantly dark gaze was blurred and vitreous. He was moaning. Peter looked at his baby brother and felt his heart breaking. Edmund had yet to recognize his presence.

"Brother, dearest brother..." The eldest king repeated over and over, unable to say anything else or even more forward. Whatever Peter set his eyes on, he felt the burden of blame on his shoulders. Had he been more careful, this wouldn't have happened. He should have come back to his little brother's side once healed, but Edmund had insisted upon dealing with all of this alone.

"Pete," he had whispered in the darkness to the High King lying injured in a bed, mere hours before leaving for Narnia. "Two of us are useless here, while three of us in the Cair can make the difference. I'll be by your side before you know it. Trust me, you'll be fine soon. I'll see you at home." With this words he had dropped a kiss on his forehead. Peter had fallen asleep and woken up in the Cair, Susan and Lucy hugging him.

Peter stepped forward to caress his brother's cheek and at last, at very last, the younger boy seemed to look – really look – at Peter. His eyes showed surprise, hope, affection, fear, and a thousand other emotions besides, but when the High King reached out his hand, the dark-haired one recoiled even more.

"You can't touch... danger!"

He didn't want this blonde boy to be suffering and aching. He couldn't exactly remember why, but he knew the other boy was very important to him and so many others. Somehow he remembered two other faces, two girls' faces, and a Lion. They seemed important too, but he was so tired and the pain was so excruciating. He was struggling to breathe. A word slipped away from his mouth: "Pete..."

"I'm here, Edmund, I'm here!"

The elder king took his baby brother in his arms and cradled him to his chest, trying to keep his heart from cracking into a thousand pieces. Edmund felt safe. He still feared for the other boy's safety, but he felt such a warmth, despite the pain... And yet, he could take no more. With a loud, agonized cry, he fainted.

Peter was desperate. _Aslan, where is Aslan?_ he thought. He brought Edmund back to the castle, caring to not aggravate his pain.

* * *

 _Light. Pain. Dark. Light. Agony. Dark. A lion. Pain. A white woman. Magic. Dark. Hurt. Blue eyes. Pain. Fire. A crocodile. Fire. Golden eyes. Love and peace, at last._

* * *

"Please, Edmund. Please try. I'm lost without you. I cannot do it without you. Please. I've tried, I will try but, Edmund, it's impossible. We need you. I need you. We need each other. Please, please, please. Fight!" Peter whispered to his brother, an imploring stream of encouragement flowing from his mouth.

"Ed!" Peter called when he elicited no response.

"Ed!" he screamed once more. "No," he cried. "No, you can't, brother!"

But there was no brother left to hear his pleadings, no more...

Edmund's body was cold and still.

No heartbeat.

Peter's world smashed. His soul felt mutilated. How could he bring such a news to their... no, now Susan and Lucy had only a brother, one brother; they merely were his sisters… _Edmund had always been the better brother._

The sun set and rose again. The moon and the stars lightened the night as they always did. But in Calandratos's castle the routine seemed to have stopped since the afternoon when King Edmund had died. None dared to pronounce that last word; no one dared to send a note to Cair Paravel; no one dared to do anything, actually. They just breathed, because that was a natural, unstoppable action. Many wished to cease even that. They walked on their toes, too, even they didn't know why. It just felt right. They also waited for Aslan to come, because He would come. He simply had to come if they would have enough faith.

And enough faith they proved to have: Aslan did come.

'*^*^*^*^*^'

(1) Inspired by a Miguel de Cervantes's sentence


	6. Chapter 6

With all my gratitude to **Eryniel Alasse** for giving me her time, betareading this story and helping me a lot!

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Aslan did come.

Aslan did come because it was time, because they trusted in Him and because Edmund had slept enough, so He said.

Everyone bowed and knelt in front of Him.

"Rise, my children. Well met, Calandratos, my newborn son."

"Your highest majesty," the Lord replied, suddenly feeling overflowing with peace.

Peter threw himself at the Lion's paws, embracing them and repeating Aslan's name like a mantra. Aslan gently nudged his head.

"Why, Aslan? Why it should have been Edmund? You know is one of your most faithful servants and..." the boy asked.

"That's precisely why, my dear son. You'll understand. Come now, I think King Edmund had slept enough. Let's go and wake up the Just King and let the mercy stand once again," the Lion said with a meaningful but understanding smile to the Leopard who had killed the warlock.

Said Leopard would have blushed, if leopards could blush. Things being as they were, he merely bowed, embarrassed. The Lion smiled once more.

In Edmund's room, Aslan looked gravely at Peter, saying, "My son, do you love me?"

"My love for you is pure and absolute, Aslan," was his calm and certain reply.

Aslan asked again, "Narnia's High King, do you love your family and your people?"

Peter answered, "I do, Aslan."

"Peter Pevensie, how much do you value your brother?"

"More than my life, Aslan, more than anything else in this or any other world, because he is my brother... he's my best friend, my most trusted counselor, my fortress... but above all he's my brother." This explained it all and so much more, because a good brother was the keeper of your identity.

Aslan nodded, pleased. "You speak the truth. Edmund is your righthand man. Would you be willing to cut off your very right hand to have him back?"

In reply, Peter silently took his brother's dagger with his left hand, his face grim and determined. He set above on his wrist and was on the verge of bringing the blade down, but at the very last second, Aslan stopped him.

"Enough, Son of Adam. You need not. I know you love him, but Edmund is mine."

Peter dropped the dagger, puzzled.

Suddenly the ground shook, the sky rumbled and the Lion gave a majestic roar. "Edmund is mine. You cannot hold him. I bought him with My own blood." His tone softened and he added, "Out of love and loyalty you gave up your life, and out of love and authority I order you to wake up, dear son."

Peter was too happy and overwhelmed to manage a move or a word as he watched his brother, healthy and recovered, opening his lively eyes, blinking and fondly smiling at Peter himself. His dark eyes swept the bedchamber. As he spotted Aslan, he rushed to the Lion and flung his arms as far as they would go round the huge neck. He gave Aslan the strong kisses of a King, and Aslan gave him the wild kisses of a Lion. (1)

Then Aslan spoke and explained: "Edmund, the darkness touched you when you sacrificed yourself to save Narnia – because of the warlock's spell, you had to die. But since I love you and you love me, you remained mine and death himself couldn't hold you."

Edmund nodded, but Peter's expression was startled.

"Yes," the Lion responded to the High King's unexpressed question, His voice warm and understanding. "He has died. Most people have, you know. Even I have. There are very few who haven't. (1) Do not fear; now he is awake and no more among the dead."

Aslan's eyes were blissful as the two brothers fiercely hugged each other.

"When you are ready, your people are waiting for you two. And my Father is waiting for me. Until the next time, beloved ones. My thanks is with both of you and your sisters for taking care of my family."

The two kings bowed their heads and smiled as the Lion left.

Peter and Edmund couldn't help but tarry a little more – right then, they couldn't face anyone else. When they were ready, they did find a big crowd, who were eagerly waiting for them and enthusiastically cheering their kings as they appeared. Calandratos's and the old butler's happiness was as great and genuine as the Narnians'. The two brothers smiled sheepishly, feeling their younger selves once again, back on the day of their coronation.

They would not have known yet, but the welcome in the Cair would have been more warm and passionate, if it was possible.

Lucy and Susan, even without knowing anything about Edmund's death, had felt something was wrong with their brothers. They had been worrying since Peter's sudden departure, acting like shadows of their usual cheerful and lively selves.

Lucy was the first to spot the column coming towards the castle. She immediately warned Susan and they alerted the concert band as soon as they recognized the Narnian flag that waved more proudly and brightly than ever.

When the two kings and their soldiers dismounted, they all were greeted by the Narnian anthem and Peter and Edmund were pulled in a big family hug by their enthusiastic and loving sisters.

Everyone sighed in relief. All was right in Narnia once again.

It was good to hear their rulers laughing without a care. Each of them was Valiant, Just, Gentle and Magnificent, but they couldn't live up to these titles all the time. They deserved to be just Lucy, Edmund, Susan and Peter. They were siblings most of all.

And of course each Talking Animal congratulated him or herself and couldn't stop talking and repeating that they had always said their Kings and the Queens were able to solve all the problems, included this one, obviously! Aslan had helped but the point was there anyway. After few minutes, Edmund's adventure was told and blown out of proportion. Had someone known that tale about King Edmund's duel? Yes, a squirrel knew something about it, but it hadn't been a simple duel – it had been a real battle. And the warlock? He had been a halfgiant.

No, there had been two giants and a warlock. It had all started when...

Well, since something always needed to be said in their opinion, their chatters are a different story for another time!

The End

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(1) The silver chair: Caspian wakes up in Aslan's country

A/N if you've reached this point, thank you very much for reading all my story! I am very grateful and feel honored! I hope this last chapter did not disappoint anyone. I just ask you a little favor: I loved hearing from you all, so please keep telling me your thoughts and comments about this story now that it's complete; I'll cherish each review! Thanks again!


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